WHAT IS A DISCOMFORT ZONE?

WHAT IS A DISCOMFORT ZONE?

When we speak of “comfort zones,” we usually mean a safe, familiar space where we feel at ease. But in a homily, Cardinal Ambo David invited us to think about the opposite—the “discomfort zone.” Following God, he said, often means deliberately stepping into danger, into suffering, into uncomfortable places. Why? Because there is a fire burning inside the heart, one that cannot be contained.

The prophet Jeremiah once cried out that God’s word was like fire raging in his bones, a fire he could not ignore even if he wanted to. Jesus, too, in the gospel, seemed restless, even angry--burning with passion for justice and truth. That fire is what drives prophets, saints, and ordinary people of conscience to leave comfort behind.

We know this from our own history. Jose Rizal’s story of the moth drawn to the flame captures the attraction of sacrifice for a higher cause. San Roque turned his back on wealth and privilege at the age of 20 to care for plague victims in Rome. He chose discomfort over comfort because his love for God demanded it.

But how do we live this “discomfort zone” today, in the Philippines of 2025?

Cardinal Ambo tells the tragic story of Dion Angelo, a 20-year-old sacristan from Malabon. During the floods, he searched for his father who had been wrongfully arrested for illegal gambling. In the process, he contracted leptospirosis and died. Imagine that: the young man who was his family’s hope, a college student, and a servant of the Church—gone, because of systemic neglect and corruption. His grandfather soon followed him in death.

And here’s the harder question: How can we give justice to the poor?

We hear of a co-accused in court who pleaded guilty to a crime he did not commit just so he could go home and feed his family. He could not afford bail. He could not afford a lawyer. This is the painful truth: the poor often plead guilty not because they are guilty, but because justice in this country is too expensive. What choice do they really have?

If governance were true stewardship—as Cardinal Ambo preached in another homily—then resources would go first to protect the vulnerable. But what do we see? Billions poured into flood control projects that do not work, while funds for PhilHealth, 4Ps, and social safety nets are cut. Flooded streets, broken systems, neglected poor. Comfort zones for the powerful, discomfort zones for everyone else.

And yet, discomfort is precisely where the gospel calls us. Jesus himself said there will be division, that following him is not about keeping false peace but about igniting truth, even if it hurts. If faith means anything, it must mean being willing to step into discomfort zones—where poverty, corruption, and injustice burn holes into the lives of ordinary people.

Perhaps this is what “discomfort zone” truly means: refusing to stay numb when injustice becomes normal, refusing to stay safe while others drown in floods, rot in jail cells, or die young without hope.

Don’t you wish our leaders felt this fire in their bones? That they, too, would leave their comfort zones of privilege and step into the discomfort of real governance—facing floods, poverty, corruption, and hunger head on? Perhaps most government officials will shrug this off. But maybe, just maybe, those who are Christians should take it more seriously.

The discomfort of following God is not abstract. It is about giving justice to the poor—because in their suffering, God is present. If we cannot feel that fire, maybe we are not really following Him at all.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, 09088877282, senseneres.blogspot.com

11-18-2025